Sparks Fly
by Charlie'sLostVampire
Summary: Sam and Dean return to the Roadhouse a few weeks after their whirlwind hunt with Jo. In a word, Jo isn't happy to see them.


"Dean, I really think it's too soon for this."

"Sammy, you're being ridiculous. Jo is a lot of things, but she's not fickle. She'll have realized by now that what happened to her dad wasn't our fault."

Sam was still skeptical. Sure, Jo wasn't fickle, but she had every right to be upset. He'd be shocked if she was really over what she'd found out already.

"Alright, whatever you say," he stated with a sigh, unfastening his seatbelt as the Impala pulled to a stop outside of the Roadhouse. Their latest hunt had brought them back to Nebraska, and Dean had insisted upon stopping in to see the Harvelle's before they headed out; he claimed it was to see if there was any information about them floating around, particularly Sam's visions, but Sam knew better. After the way Dean had left things with Jo the last time they had seen each other, he wasn't all that surprised that his older brother wanted to see if the girl still hated him.

"You do realize she's probably not here, right?" he asked as they hurried toward the door to get out of the downpour that had started around a half-hour ago. "She's probably on a hunt. I doubt she'd have wanted to stick around after finding out Ellen's been keeping things from her about her father for years."

"What, so you think she'd just abandon her?" Dean scoffed, pulling the door open. "Jo's not like that."

Dean certainly seemed to think he knew Jo well, and Sam didn't really think he did. Maybe his brother just assumed he knew how the girl would react to situations, given that he and Jo were fairly similar in attitudes, but Dean seemed to always forget that they were also very different people. While Dean had been free to do just about whatever the hell he wanted, so long as it also included hunting, Jo had been trapped in the same place for most of her life. Sam wouldn't be surprised if she'd jumped at the chance to finally put it behind her.

Then again, maybe Sam was assuming a little too much that Jo was just like _him_.

Neither of the Winchester boys knew Joanna Beth Harvelle all that well. Not really.

As soon as they stepped in out of the rain, they were hit by the loud buzz of conversation inside, and Sam caught sight of Ellen up at the bar. If they were going to be here, he might as well actually ask her if she'd heard anything about their situation.

"I'm gonna go talk to Ellen," he stated, and Dean nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, sure; I'll catch up with you in a minute."

Sam shrugged and nodded, walking off on his own, and Dean glanced around the bar, searching for any sign of that familiar pretty blonde head. She had to be here somewhere...

"_Oh, come on, Stan; that can't be the best you've got._"

"_Not all of us grew up with a pool table at their disposal, Joanna Beth._"

Smirking, Dean turned toward the direction of the pool table, finally catching sight of her. She was bent over the pool table, undoubtedly hustling some poor hunter out of his last hundred bucks. She didn't seem upset, but she was a good actress...

"How much are you out?"

The hunter, a tall man with dark hair, glanced up when he spoke, grinning at the sight.

"Winchester! How long has it been?"

"Six, seven years?" Dean stated, grinning. He and his father had helped Stan Picket with a ghoul a few years back, but he hadn't seen him since. It wasn't an unwelcome surprise.

Standing up straight when she caught sight of him, Jo frowned, clutching her pool cue with pursed lips. "What are you doing here, Dean?"

"Sam and I were in the area, thought we'd stop by." Leaning against the pool table, Dean frowned a bit at her tone, crossing his arms, "That a problem with you?"

Giving him an obviously fake, wry smile, Jo shook her head, "Not at all. By all means, you and Stan get caught up. I won't stand in your way." Thrusting her pool cue into his hands with more force than necessary, Jo brushed past him, stalking away through the crowd.

"What's go her so worked up?" Stan asked, his brow furrowed, and Dean shook his head, handing him the pool cue.

"Family drama, probably. I'm going to go talk to her."

Stan didn't believe him for a second; Jo and Ellen had seemed to be getting along fine as long as he'd been here. The only person the girl seemed to have any "drama" with was Dean himself.

"Are you still pissed at me?" Dean asked, frowning deeply as he watched her clear a table, and Jo scowled when she met his gaze.

"I thought I made it pretty damn clear the last time you were here that I didn't want to see you or Sam again for a _long_ time?"

"_Why?_" Dean asked with exasperation, following as she headed into the kitchen with a tray of dishes in her hands, frowning.

"_Why?_ Are you kidding me right now?" she asked, laughing bitterly, whirling to face him once she put the tray down, "Your father is the reason mine is dead! That's _why!_"

"It's not like it was my fault!" Dean objected, shaking his head. "You can't blame_ me_ for the fact that your father was killed on a hunt he went on with my dad. I never even met the guy!"

Jo didn't blame Dean for her father's death. She had very different reasons to not want to see him that were related to it.

"Just go, Dean. _Please._"

"No." Frowning, Dean stepped toward her, his green eyes narrowed as he peered down at her, thunder rumbling outside, "I'm not going anywhere until I get answers."

Setting her jaw, Jo frowned up at him in return. The only answers she could give him were ones from the conversation she'd had with her mother that day, and she wasn't about to do that.

… . … . … . … . … . …

"What are you talking about?"

"Like father like sons, that is what I'm talking about!"

Jo had fallen silent at her mother's words, thrown for an unexpected loop. She hadn't seen that coming.

"John? I thought you and John were friends?"

"Yeah, we were. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Mom."

The sight of her mother's tears and the way her voice broke made Jo certain of one thing before Ellen even confirmed it; this was about her father. The only times Jo had ever seen her mother cry were always somehow related to William's death.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Ellen was silent for a long moment before she sat down on one of the bar stools, reluctantly meeting her daughter's gaze. "You know that your father was killed on a hunt when you were little."

Jo nodded and frowned as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah; what does that have to do with any of this?"

"When he went on that hunt, he wasn't alone. He had a partner."

Jo felt her stomach drop, and she slowly shook her head. "John Winchester...?"

"Yes, John Winchester! He used your father as bait to lure this damn thing out, but he jumped the gun and ended up getting your daddy killed. He could never look me in the eye after that."

"John Winchester is the reason my father is dead."

Jo's words weren't a question, they were a statement. A horrified, pained statement and she found herself fighting back her own tears when Ellen nodded.

"I should have told you before now, but there was never a reason to-"

"Like hell there was never a reason!"

Jo's voice broke when she snapped, and Ellen furrowed her brow at her daughter's outburst.

"Joanna Beth, what are you implying?"

"You knew. All this time, you knew that John was the reason Dad died, and you never told me! You let me get close to those boys out there without the slightest intention of telling me unless you could use it to your advantage!"

"_Excuse me?_" Ellen asked, frowning deeply at Jo's accusation, "You know damn well it isn't easy for me to talk about this! It's got nothing to do with those damn boys!"

"Oh, I'm sure," Jo snapped, slightly hysterical as a few tears escaped. "You watched me with them all the times they've been here; with _Dean_. You'd have to be blind to not notice that maybe, just maybe, I might feel something for him. That scared the hell out of you, because if I was with him, I might actually have an excuse to go off and hunt! So you waited until you knew you might lose me, and you drop _this_ on me because you knew it would ruin everything!"

"That is _not_ true," Ellen snapped in retort, frowning with something that almost looked like hurt. "Joanna Beth, you are my daughter, and I love you more than anything in this world. All I want is your happiness. I'd never try to sabotage that."

Maybe it hadn't been intentional, and maybe it had, but it still worked either way. It killed Jo to know that the first person she'd ever thought she could really be happy with was so closely connected to the loss of her father. She'd never be able to look at Dean the same way ever again, even if they did somehow move past this. There would always be that nagging little voice in the back of her mind; the one that would taunt her about how her father would never approve of her being with him, and how being happy with a boy from the same family that had broken hers would be the ultimate betrayal.

She couldn't let that happen. She had to cut Dean loose; keep him away from her. The only way to do that was to tell him the truth, and hope he was capable of taking a hint.

… . … . … . … . … . …

Obviously he wasn't, because he was standing here now, glaring down at her with those beautiful green eyes and making her insides squirm and ache. She couldn't let herself fall back into his orbit; it wasn't _right._ Shaking her head, she quickly whirled on her heel and bolted out the backdoor into the storm, and Dean frowned with confusion, hurrying after her.

"Jo! What the hell are you doing?"

He could see her in the darkness, standing beneath the lone street lamp that lit the parking lot. She was leaning against it, her shoulders heaving as the rain poured heavily down on her, and Dean felt his heart twist. Damn it, what had he _done? _

"Jo?"

When he finally worked up the courage to approach her, his voice came out rather hesitant, and she jumped, hoping that her tears could pass for drops of rain water on her cheeks. Before she could stop herself, she was rambling on and on, hoping she could somehow make him understand why she couldn't be with him.

"I can't do this, Dean; I can't be around you anymore. It isn't the same. I don't blame you for what your father did, but that doesn't change that he did it! It doesn't change that _my_ father died because of it! I cared about you, Dean, and that scares the hell out of me because I can't be with someone who I'll always end up relating to the loss of someone who still means so much to m-"

Her words clicked in Dean's brain, and he found himself grabbing Jo by her forearms and pulling her to him in the rain, crashing his lips down to hers to silence her ramblings. He should have known. He should have figured it out. He should have left her alone. But he just _couldn't_.

He couldn't see himself with anyone else in the way he liked to imagine himself with Joanna Beth Harvelle. Screw what their fathers had done; John Winchester had messed up his life enough already. He wasn't about to let him mess this up for him, too. Jo struggled feebly in his hands before giving in as her tears mingled with the raindrops, kissing him back with something like desperation as he pressed her back against the pole of the street lamp. Dean only pulled back when thunder rumbled loudly again, pressing his forehead against hers as water dripped from his long eyelashes.

"We can't let the past dictate our future, Jo," he stated, their wet hair plastered to their faces.

"Dean..." she whispered brokenly, and he shook his head, pulling her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest as he kissed her hair, his voice low.

"I'm sorry for what my father did. You know I am. But I can't change it, and it would suck ass if that was what made you hate me..." Grinning faintly, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "If you're gonna hate me, at least give me the honor of making you do so myself."

She choked on something that seemed to be a mixture of a laugh and a sob, and Dean held her tighter, the rain soaking them both to the bone.

"Deal..."


End file.
